Eli
I can barely breathe.
Not because I can’t. Not because he won’t let me. Because I don’t want to. Because every time I draw in a lungful of air, it smells like him.
Like sweat and heat and hunger. Like dominance wrapped in pine and smoke. Like the edge of something sharp, dark, and inevitable.
My knees are on the floor. My mouth is full. My brain is static.
He groans above me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other braced against the log wall behind him. I’m not good at this. I’ve never done this. But he’s teaching me. And gods, I want to learn. I want to be good for him. I want to be better.
He smells like lust. Like control. Like approval when I do something right. And right now, his thighs are trembling ever so slightly. His c**k is heavy on my tongue, his hips still except wh
